The True You
by xBleedingBlackRosex
Summary: "Kurt had always been self-conscious." Worried about his appearance, he turns to drastic measures to achieve physical perfection. But his methods are dangerous. Can Blaine convince him he's already perfect as he is before it's too late? TRIGGER ALERT!
1. PROLOGUE

**Here's a new one for y'all! :D I know a few others have written stories based on this same dilemma, but hopefully this will stand on its own as an original work. Inspired and suggested by Valashu. Love you! Enjoy.**

**NOTE: Kurt is 5'10". Guys that height should be between 132 and 167 pounds in order to maintain a healthy BMI (body mass index). Just so you know. :)**

**TRIGGER-ALERT! Please, ****_please_**** read with discretion. I don't want anybody to relapse because of this. If you have the slightest doubt about whether you can handle it, I would ****_much_**** rather you stop right now. Anorexia, bulimia, anything. ****_Please_**** do not try and force yourself to read this if you know you may not be able to handle it. Read at your own risk.**

…

Kurt had always been self-conscious.

Nobody would have ever guessed it, considering what a confident, self-assured front he always put on. He wore what he pleased, no matter how feminine or extravagant, and never let anybody tear him down for it. But inside, he was constantly aware of how he looked. It wasn't just his apparel, either. It was his figure. He'd been dieting since he was _eight_. His mother had had a perfect figure, and he was determined to take after her in that aspect. Of course, being male, he would never be exactly like her, but he still strove for physical perfection. He rejected candies, depraved himself of snacks, sometimes even went to bed hungry in the hopes that it would take a couple pounds off his thighs.

He would not consider it a 'condition.' He still _ate_, after all. It was just that he did not eat _as much_ as most others. But so what if he exchanged a hamburger for a stick of celery? He was just being healthy. Besides, his sense of style, which included skinny jeans and skin-tight tops, did not allow for any fat flabs. If he wanted to keep his favorite outfits, he had to make absolutely sure he did not gain any weight. Which meant he never let the scale pass 130. Ever.

When he entered high school, he'd begun to relax his self-discipline on his body. He would allow himself things he'd usually have turned down flat – an ice cream cone when on an outing with Mercedes, a second serving when at Breadstix with New Directions, that sort of thing. He still kept a close eye on his weight, of course. But what was a pound or two, really? It wasn't _that_ noticeable, right?

Then he joined the Cheerios, and with Sue Sylvester's offhanded comment about his pear hips, it all came rushing back to him ten-fold.

He'd tried exercise, of course. He was all skin and bone, though, no muscle. He couldn't do a pull-up to save his life, he collapsed after only five push-ups, and the weight room was too full of homophobic jocks to risk entering. The only thing he was good at was running. He'd been running from bullies since he was little, so he was well-practiced in lurching into a sprint at any moment. His long limbs only helped. But he despised breaking a sweat, so it wasn't like he took a jog around his neighborhood every evening. He much preferred skipping dinner than slipping on tennis shoes and hitting the sidewalk.

His real obsession with his appearance, though, did not start until he arrived at Dalton, and fell head over heels for the lead singer of the Warblers. Blaine Anderson.

…

**Nice little prologue for you! :) Hopefully you think it looks interesting? Everyone these days think physical appearances are ****_so_**** important, and who better to model this problem with than the skinniest guy on Glee? (No, I know Chris Colfer doesn't have an eating disorder or anything. But you gotta admit, he's ****_really_**** thin! ;D)**

**Once again, I'd just like to add a trigger-alert! People, seriously, I'd much rather lose a reader than have one of you relapse. Please be careful, and know that you are loved and beautiful in every way and if you ever need to talk, my inbox is ****_always_****open.**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	2. Chapter 1: Suspicion

**And now, the actual plot. Read on and enjoy!**

…

"The answer is forty-two."

Kurt looked up from his homework, startled. He was working in the second-floor common room after school on Thursday, slugging his way through his Calculus problem sets. He had been alone, most people either at extracurriculars or their dormitories or home, and he had not heard the door open. Yet there Blaine was, in all his uniformed glory. He immediately felt himself beginning to smile. Just the sight of the older Warbler got his heart racing.

"Sorry?"

"The answer," Blaine repeated, a joking smirk in place as he took a seat across the circular table from him. "It's forty-two."

"Oh, really?" Kurt played along, raising a delicate eyebrow. "And how would _you_ know that, Mr. Anderson?"

He scoffed. "Didn't you get the memo? I know _everything._"

Kurt laughed out loud at that. "Oh, is that so? My apologies! How _could_ I have missed that memo?"

Blaine grinned. "If you let me take you to Frigid, I'll consider forgiving your ignorance."

Kurt's smile flickered for a second. Frigid was the newest, hottest – metaphorically, of course – hang out place in Westerville. It was the ice cream parlor across the street from the movie theatre, an ideal spot since all the Dalton students who went to see a movie could swing by there as well.

But Kurt had done well in avoiding the shop since its opening. He did not need the extra calories, thank you very much. "Oh, I don't know," he said airily, pretending to return to his homework. "Ice cream isn't really my thing..."

Blaine scoffed in disbelief. "Not your thing? It's everybody's thing! Come on..._please_?" And then Kurt made the mistake of glancing up at his puppy dog eyes. His self-control melted away instantly, no pun intended. How could he say no to that face? Answer: he couldn't.

"Alright, alright, fine!" He closed his textbook.

"Great!" Blaine practically leapt to his feet in triumph.

"You're an awful influence," Kurt pouted with a roll of his eyes, slipping his books into his bag. He would just have to finish up his work when he got home. Luckily, he didn't have too much left, apart from the treacherous Calculus. They made their way to Blaine's car – a sleek black Volvo convertible – and headed towards the center of town. The radio was playing, as it always was when they were in the car, but they still talked over it. It was as if they were trying to make up for lost time. Having only met each other a couple months ago, they found that they could talk comfortably with each other for hours on end without rest. And that was completely natural to them.

When they entered, a refreshing rush of chilly air washed over them.

"What are you thinking of getting?" Blaine asked as they fell into line.

Kurt bit his lip. "I don't know...What's the healthiest flavor?"

Blaine snorted. "Kurt, it's an _ice cream_ store. There's _nothing_ healthy here."

This did not reassure Kurt as it was meant to. Kurt was already mourning the unnecessary calories that would drop straight to his thighs. He seriously debated just not ordering anything. But he knew that would not go over well with Blaine. So instead his eyes scoured the menu for something that wouldn't make him look even more like an overweight walrus.

"I'll have a medium chocolate fudge sundae," Blaine ordered cheerfully as soon as they reached the cash register. Kurt sighed internally. _He's lucky he can eat all those calories and still look as amazing as he does. This is _so_ unfair. _"And he'll have..."

"A banana smoothie."

Blaine cocked an eyebrow at him, one side of his mouth curling up. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he said defensively. Blaine shook his head, chuckling at his decision.

"Alright. And a banana smoothie, please. Thanks." And then, without even needing to look over at the brunette, he added, "Put that wallet _away_, Kurt. I said I was taking you to Frigid. That means I pay." And with that, he handed over a crisp twenty. Kurt pouted as he replaced his wallet into his bag. Blaine paid the vast majority of the time; Kurt was beginning to feel extremely guilty about it. He decided he would definitely pay next time, no matter what.

They took their snacks and managed to snag a table in the corner of the crowded shop. Kurt watched Blaine as he dug into his sundae. _He doesn't have to worry about weight gain _at all_, does he? He must have awesome metabolism. Or maybe it's because he works out on the weekends. I bet he has _great_ abs...Oh my god, stop thinking about his abs. Why did I have to fall for someone so much more attractive than me? Not that it's very hard to be more attractive than me, but...still..._

"Hey, Kurt?"

He blinked. "Yes?"

"Are you going to drink that or what?"

Kurt looked down at his untouched smoothie. "Oh, yeah..." He took a sip, doing his best not to picture his hips inflating to revolting sizes and his stomach ballooning over the top of his pants. Blaine's eyebrows drew together. He was confused, and a little worried. Kurt had been acting strangely for a while now. He couldn't quite put his finger on it; it was just a feeling he got sometimes when he caught Kurt lost in thought. Like he was contemplating something he'd rather not think about. _But what?_

"Want a bite of my sundae?" he offered cheerfully, spooning up a sizable scoop and holding it over the table towards him.

Kurt stared at it. He couldn't deny it _did_ look really good. But he was already intaking about three hundred too many calories. His figure could not handle ice cream as well. So he told his mouth to stop watering, smiled, and shook his head. "No, thanks."

"You sure?" he pressed. Kurt nodded. Blaine ate the ice cream himself, but the indent between his eyebrows only grew. _Does Kurt seriously not like ice cream?_ Blaine had not even thought that was physically _possible._ And then an idea came to him. "Hey, Kurt...What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night?" He tried to think if he had any Friday plans, but he came up empty. Which was strange, because usually he had dinner with his family. Burt was going to be in Cleveland for a car show, though, and Carole wouldn't be getting off work until late, so the dinner had been canceled for this week. "Nothing, as far as I'm aware. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking of inviting a few of the Warblers over for dinner...Think you'd be interested?"

"At your house?" Kurt had never been to Blaine's house before. He was far more intrigued than he probably should have been, but he was dying to see what kind of house his crush grew up in, what his bedroom looked like. You could tell a lot about a person just from looking at their room. What sort of posters plastered his walls, what sort of books occupied his shelves, what kind of clothing cluttered his closet? It was embarrassing how much Kurt wanted to know the answers.

"Yep. My parents are out of town, so I have the house to myself." Blaine made a mental note to call his parents the moment he was back at Dalton and make sure it would be alright. He was sure they'd be fine with it, though; they trusted him not to break into the alcohol cabinet while they were away and throw a rave party in the den. Which Blaine had honestly _never_ seen the appeal of.

"Really? Where are they, then?"

Blaine struggled to remember. His parents traveled quite a bit, both for work and for vacation. It sometimes slipped his mind where they were at the moment. "I think Brazil...Or was it Beijing? It might be Belgium...Or Bulgaria...It definitely starts with a B..."

Kurt laughed at the older boy's confusion. "And they're fine with you throwing a party when they're not around?" He knew Burt would have never approved of that. He trusted his son, but there was a limit.

"Totally," Blaine assured. _I'm not _lying_, per say_, he justified to himself internally. _I'm just making an educated assumption. That's all._ "So do I take it you're in? Don't worry, it won't be some wild dance party or anything. Just some guys over for dinner. Very refined. I'll cook."

Kurt's eyebrows jumped towards his hairline. "You can cook?" For some reason, he had not pinned Blaine as much of a talent in the kitchen. But then again, he shouldn't have been too surprised. Blaine was perfect, after all. He could do _anything_.

"I'm no Betty Crocker," he said modestly. "But I'm not half bad..."

"Well, I'd love to! I'll ask Dad tonight and text you, okay?"

"Great," Blaine beamed. He glanced down at the table. His sundae had vanished into his stomach, but Kurt had hardly touched his smoothie. The reason for this spur-of-the-moment invitation came back to him. He was interested in figuring out what was different about his best friend. He hoped that pulling him into a new setting would help him with this investigation. He was fairly certain it had something to do with eating. Perhaps he was uncomfortable about eating in public? Of course, he would have normally just asked the boy outright. But he suspected that Kurt would not tell him even if he did.

"You can take that in the car," Blaine said easily, getting to his feet. Kurt followed gratefully. He had been afraid if they stayed for much longer Blaine would force him to drink all of it. "We'd better be getting back. I don't want your dad getting mad at you."

Blaine drove them back to Dalton. Kurt thanked him for the drink and got into his own car, heading for Lima. And for the entire two hour drive, his banana smoothie sat in the cup-holder, untouched and thoroughly unwanted. He felt a little sick with himself; he'd been doing so well. That was how it always went, though, ever since he'd transferred to Dalton. He'd have three relatively small but healthy meals a day, nothing more, but then Blaine would flash those irresistible eyes at him, and before he knew it they were pigging out on red vines and popcorn on his bedroom floor, watching _Chicago_ or _Moulin Rouge_ or _Wicked_. If he wasn't so infatuated with the boy, he would hate him for destroying his diet nearly every week.

When he got home, he scurried up to his room and automatically threw away the rest of the beverage. He felt a twinge of guilt at wasting Blaine's money. But then he caught a look at himself in the mirror, and suddenly the worry was completely overshadowed by self-consciousness. That horridly pudgy face stared back at him. His hand found his cheek, and he was disgusted by the way it could be pinched and massaged. He lifted up his shirt and blanched. He looked pregnant. His hips were enormous and his arms were so flabby they could be used as blankets. It was a revolting sight to see.

And that was when he knew something had to be done.

"Kurt, dinner's on the table!" he heard his father call up the stairs. He glanced towards the door, then back at his bloated reflection. And his mind was set.

"I'm not that hungry, actually," he lied easily. "I ate with Blaine just a little while ago."

"Oh. Alright." This response was accepted readily. He could hear the footsteps retreating and sighed. He knew he would have no trouble fibbing his way around Burt. Finn would not be a problem either. Carole, on the other hand, might figure it out before too long. He would have to be careful about his eating patterns, make sure none of them ever suspected that his meals consisted of nothing but air.

There was a voice in the back recesses of his brain that warned him against such drastic measures. He was no idiot; he knew that complete starvation would eventually lead to death. He wasn't suicidal; he wanted to _live_ to become beautiful and thin. But extreme cutbacks on the intake of calories was different. Better. _I'll eat just enough_, he promised himself. His mind was made up. He would not bend.

_And then I'll loose all this extra weight at last! And I'll finally be skinny. Like Blaine. And then maybe he'll see me as someone he might be willing to date, instead of as his porky new gay friend._

…

**Kuuuuuurt, what are you doing? D: You're beautiful and perfect and waaaah!**

**Also, according to my subconscious Yelah (yes. She has a name. It worries me too) and my mother, I use way too many descriptors...**

**Example 1: Mama says "he said sadly." I say "he mourned, eyes shining with fresh tears of sorrow."**

**Example 2: Yelah says "he sat down." I say "he reclined gracefully across the plush red couch."**

**Heh. Heh. Awkward...**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	3. Chapter 2: Progress

**Oh my goodness, some of these reviews are SO touching! :D I'm so sorry for such an extended pause for updating this fic...I feel awful. There was testing, and then I was focused on my other fanfics, and...yes. So forgive me! Enjoy.**

…

Kurt skipped breakfast the next morning. This was easily enough done by simply "sleeping in" and thus needing to rush out the door without any food. His father suspected nothing. When he arrived at school, he was smiling with pride. _Doing well! Keep it up!_ He chanted to himself.

"Kurt, hey!" Blaine spotted him halfway up the stairwell and hurried to join him. "You in for tonight?"

"Naturally," he grinned, although, in truth, he had completely forgotten to ask his dad. "Sorry, I asked and then forgot to text you."

"Don't worry about it." Blaine tried to ignore the faintest hint of sadness at the thought that Kurt had forgotten about him, even for a moment. He suppressed the sensation. He did not want to seem clingy or obsessive. They were only friends, after all. "I was thinking you could just come home with me after school so you don't have to drive all the way to Lima and then all the way back. That sound good?"

"It sounds perfect," Kurt agreed, nodding and smiling. He couldn't wait to finally see Blaine's house. The bell rang for everybody to get to their first class. "I should go. See you!" He hurried off. Before he entered his Calculus classroom, he sent a quick text to his father.

_From: Kurt Hummel_

_Blaine invited some of the Warblers over for dinner tonight. Can I go?_

Burt was not particularly quick in responding. He had never been very tech-savvy, unless it had to do with his widescreen TV. Texting was a struggle for the man. Kurt had already settled down at his desk and pulled out his math notes when his phone finally vibrated.

_From: Burt Hummel_

_OK. When will you be home?_

Keeping one eye on Ms. Waters to make sure she was still wrapped up in her class notes, he responded at once under the table. His seat partner glanced over at him briefly and smirked knowingly. At Dalton, everybody was an expert at sneaking texts.

_From: Kurt Hummel_

_Depends how long dinner takes. Be home before midnight._

He then spent the next fifteen minutes, during which he should have been paying close attention to Ms. Waters's lecture on derivatives and limits, cyber-arguing with his father over his curfew. It _was_ a Friday night, after all. But Burt wanted him home by nine. That was simply not going to happen. Finally, the older man gave in and allowed him to stay out until eleven, not a second more. 'No funny business' was his final text. If Kurt had not been in the middle of class, he would have sighed dramatically. What did his dad expect him to _do_? Blaine was not his boyfriend – despite how much he wished he was – and neither was any of the other Warblers. What was there to worry about?

Kurt was excited to see Blaine at lunch (they always ate together at the same table, ever since he'd transferred) now that he _had_ actually gotten Burt's approval, but he wasn't so excited at the prospect of being surrounded by food. Despite the rumblings of his stomach, he downright refused to eat lunch. He had a strong will; he was not particularly worried that he would give in. No, he was more worried that somebody – Blaine – would notice and make a big deal out of it.

Wes was already at the cafeteria table when he arrived. The older Warbler was scarfing down his teriyaki chicken sandwich as if it would be last chance for him to eat anything for the rest of the year. Kurt was jealous – Wes never had to worry about his figure, just like Blaine – and reminded himself that one day soon, he would be equally handsome, if not more so. And with that mentality, he took his seat and smiled easily at his friend.

"Aren't you gonna get any food?" Wes asked, muffled by a mouthful of chicken.

"Your table manners are as eloquent as ever, I see," Kurt teased, hoping to distract him. "There's no rush. It's not like your sandwich is just going to get up and walk away if you don't eat it fast enough."

Wes swallowed guiltily. Blaine came up and took his seat next to Kurt, flashing the brunette a smile that gave him butterflies. Or maybe that was just the hunger acting up again. Then the dark-haired singer noticed the empty table in front of his friend. A frown darkened his expression.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked lightly.

Kurt shrugged offhandedly. "I had a big breakfast," he lied smoothly. He silently thanked his stomach for not growling at that moment, which would have completely ruined his cover-up. "Besides, I'm waiting for dinner tonight. I'm interested in finding out just how good you are in the kitchen..."

He had not meant for that come out sounding quite so suggestive, yet from the reddening of Blaine's ears, he knew he taken it the same way, too. The older Warbler quickly dropped his gaze to his pasta. "It- I'm nothing special," he murmured self-deprecatingly.

"Nothing special, my gavel!" Wes piped up firmly. "Last time you cooked anything, the entire neighborhood came crawling to your door! Remember?"

"Don't exaggerate," Blaine scolded, still blushing with embarrassment and secretly loving the way Kurt's eyebrows jumped at Wes's words. He had been planning the meal in his head all morning (instead of paying attention in his classes, as he would probably regret in the near future) to make sure it was Kurt-worthy. He hoped the countertenor enjoyed it. He was the reason he'd created this dinner party in the first place, after all. _And the others_, he added to himself. _It won't just be me and Kurt...Don't be depressed about that! Jeez, Blaine, learn how to share. I can't be the _only_ one getting to spend time outside of school with Kurt. Besides, this night has a purpose, remember? Something's up with Kurt._

"David and I will be there around six," Wes informed him. "You'd better be ready for some serious devouring. Coach Williams is going to work us to the bone."

"You guys have a game tomorrow?" Blaine guessed. Wes merely nodded, mouth once again too full of sandwich to speak. Kurt frowned at his bulging cheeks, but was relieved the conversation had been diverted away so easily from his absence of lunch. At this rate, it would be no trouble at all to convince his family and friends that his diet was nothing but normal.

…

Blaine and Kurt met after school at Blaine's car. They had both changed into casual attire. Kurt had not eaten since the smoothie the afternoon previous, and he was very proud of his self-restraint. _Almost twenty-four hours..._He already felt better. His stomach was still craving subsistence, but over time it had faded to a dull, ignorable pain. He still drank quite a bit of water throughout the day; he knew that being dehydrated was much more dangerous than skipping a few meals.

"Who else is coming?" he inquired once they'd gotten in and the engine roared to life. He reached forward and turned on the radio, setting the volume low so they could still talk.

_You're the only one that matters_. Blaine shook this thought out of his head at once. "Oh, just a few of the guys. Wes, David, Jeff, Nick, maybe Thad...That cool?"

"Oh, no- I mean, yes, that's fine!" he hurriedly assured. "It's _your_ house, after all, it's not like you need my permission. Speaking of which, this will be my first time over at your house, won't it?"

"That's right," he realized. "Oh man...If I'd remembered that sooner, I would have put more effort into cleaning up the place! I hope you like it." He did not want Kurt – the neat, perfectionist Kurt – to think that he was a slob or something. And he had no siblings to blame the mess on. He had been living alone for a week (and his parents would not be back from Bavaria until Sunday, as he found out over the phone the night previous), so the clutter was all because of him.

Kurt laughed. "Of course I'll like it!" If it was where Blaine lived, he was confident he would enjoy the visit.

…

**Dinner will be in the next chapter! :D What do you think Blaine should make? How do you think Kurt will react when he realizes that 'dinner' means 'eating'? DUN DUN DUN.**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	4. Chapter 3: Dinner

**The Dinner of Destiny. Cool title, I know ;D**

**Dear god, I've ignored this fic for ****_far_**** too long. I don't think I've updated it in...over 4 months! Probably more. And I am truly sorry for that ungodly delay. I started a new fic called 'Puppy Love' that I've been really focused on, leaving the rest of my ongoing fics on the back burners :( But time to change that! You might need to go back and refresh your memory as to what's going on, but apart from that, just enjoy!**

…

Blaine's house was enormous.

Kurt was not sure why he was so surprised. It had been clear to him from the very beginning that Blaine had more money than he did. But for some reason, whenever he'd tried to picture Blaine's home, he'd always imagined a cute little two-story cottage. Instead, at the end of the long, winding gravel driveway, he found a white mansion that vaguely resembled the White House. Or perhaps that was just because of the giant columns in the front.

"You never told me you lived in a castle," Kurt half-teased, half-accused.

Blaine chuckled, embarrassed. He did not want to come off as superior or snooty. "It's not actually all that grand inside...Just big. You should see some of the other houses on this street, though. They just _scream_ 'hey, look at me, I have money!' Not class _at all_..." He parked his car and stepped out. "Come on, I'll give you a tour."

Kurt followed, a little hesitantly. He had never been in such an extravagant abode. He almost felt as if he should have worn something nicer for the occasion. However, the grand front doors opened up into a startling low-key foyer, off of which branched the kitchen, the dining room, and the lounge. On the first floor there was also a library, a tea room – which Kurt made sure to mock Blaine for – a game room, and a bathroom. Everything was pretty neat, considering the only current resident was a teenage boy, and Kurt felt himself relax. It was actually rather quaint.

Upstairs was the bedrooms – Blaine's parents room, the guest room, and the room Kurt was secretly the most interested in seeing. It was at the end of the hall, with a polite sign on the door reminding people to knock first. It could have very well been Kurt's over-imagination, but it seemed to him that Blaine was a little nervous.

"And this is my room," Blaine announced, sort of unnecessarily considering the whole place just screamed of him, from the Dalton Warbler insignia above his bed, to the music note bedspread, to the musical classics lined up beneath his TV, to the posters of Broadway shows adoring the walls, to the copious amounts of hair product on the bathroom counter Kurt could spot through the half-open door. He was grinning from ear to ear as he took it all in. It was just so _Blaine_. He wandered over to the desk, over which hung a large bulletin board sporting mostly pictures of him and his friends. Kurt was pleased, if not a little taken aback, to find a candid shot of himself and Blaine smiling widely at each other during the Warblers' performance of "Hey, Soul Sister" at Sectionals right in the middle of the board. He recognized it as one Mercedes had posted on Facebook. _Blaine liked it enough to print it out?_

"It's not much," Blaine muttered.

"It's incredible!" Kurt blurted before he could stop himself.

Blaine beamed. "So...Do you want to come help with dinner?"

"I'd love to," Kurt said hurriedly. Blaine led the way back downstairs and into the kitchen, which was in pristine condition.

"I cleaned yesterday," Blaine confessed, hand subconsciously jumping to his hair and breaking up a few of the curls in the back. "Usually it's looks like a Ralphs truck exploded in here. It's pretty bad..."

"Aw, just for little ol' me?" Kurt batted his eyelashes. They both burst into laughter.

"Alright, come over here and start rising the vegetables, would you?"

"Sure!"

…

Kurt was in his kitchen at home almost as much as he was in his bedroom. He had been cooking from a very young age, ever since his mother passed away and all Burt could do was get them take-out every night. Which meant that Kurt knew exactly how to help with dinner and what to do with each ingredient. Blaine was impressed, but not surprised. He'd guessed that Kurt would be pretty knowledgeable about cooking.

"Where'd you learn?" Kurt asked, stirring the pot of pasta idly.

"My mother, mostly," Blaine revealed, slicing chicken strips at the counter. He smiled over at Kurt. "She used to let me help her prepare dinner whenever my dad was late from work. He didn't like it when I cooked...Thought it was unmanly or something." He rolled his eyes. The two young men chuckled at the stereotype as they continued with their own tasks.

"You know, there's something different about you," Blaine tried, keeping his tone carefully airy.

Kurt tensed. "Oh?" He picked up the metal pot with the cloth heat-pads and carried it to the sick, in which large strainer sat waiting.

"I can't quite put my finger on it," Blaine continued, willing Kurt to just say whatever it was outright. It was getting to the point where he was almost...worried.

Kurt shrugged. He poured the pasta into the strainer, and the steam that rose from the sink temporarily hid him from view. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, to be honest...Is it a bad thing?"

"No!" Blaine assured. Although, to be honest, he still had no real clue what the change was. Perhaps it was something minute, like a new hair spray or different skin cream. Or it could be something bigger. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have said anything. It's nothing; probably just my imagination getting the better of me."

Kurt smiled and nodded, but inwardly, he panicked. _Does Blaine know? Does he know that I'm skipping a couple meals here and there?_

…

At six o'clock, dinner was served.

Wes, David, Nick and Jeff all arrived around half passed five. Thad came only a couple minutes before the grandfather clock in the living room chimed six. Blaine and Kurt carried out the dishes together to a round of applause. They set them out along the long dining room table, which looked so regal it could have been used by noblemen sometime in the past.

"Tonight," Blaine announced with a faux-British accent that made them all snicker, "we have chicken alfredo with white sauce, fresh bread, caesar salad, and a fruit bowl. Dig in!"

They did not need to be told twice. Without further ado, the boys dove for the food, wrestling with each other and piling their plates high. Kurt watched with amusement as Blaine joined the fray, waiting patiently for the table to settle down before serving himself. _Just take a little bit of each_, he coached himself. _They won't notice as long as you have a lot of colors on your plate..._He knew that if he took nothing at all, it would not go unnoticed, and it might hurt Blaine's feelings. Which was the last thing he wanted to do. And luckily, nobody seemed to sense anything suspicious, and he was able to continue the table conversation without ever having to take more than a few bites, secretly envious of how the other boys could shovel food into their mouths like no tomorrow without having to worry about their appearance.

Little did he know, Blaine had noticed Kurt's plate, seeing as how he made sure to pay close attention to it. Although he did see Kurt eat a bit, for the most part he just pushed the food around until it was an artistic multihued swirl. He decided to be tactful and not bring it up at the dinner table, however. Pretending not to see anything out of the ordinary, he threw himself into the heated debate his end of the table was having over which college footballs teams were going to make it to the top that year.

"Kurt, if you're full, I can help you with that," David offered, mouth already stuffed to the brim with pasta. Kurt bit back a laugh at how silly he looked.

"By all means," he smiled, sliding his plate towards the boy. David attacked it with glee. Across the table, Blaine pursed his lips.

…

Kurt stayed after dinner to help clean up, despite Blaine's protests. Inwardly, though, he was happy to spend more time with the brunette by himself. Thanking them for the meal, Wes, Thad, David, Jeff and Nick said their goodbyes and departed a little before nine. The two of them worked in pleasant silence as they cleared the table and filled up the sink.

Blaine felt like this was as good a time as any to finally bring up his concerns. "Why didn't you eat?" He saw Kurt open his mouth to protest, and quickly amended, "Well, hardly anything. And you didn't eat any lunch, so don't tell me it's just because you were full."

Kurt avoided his gaze as he submerged a plate in the soapy water and began to mechanically scrub it clean. "I just wasn't all that hungry," he tried to assure offhandedly. "Don't worry, it was all delicious."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Blaine sulked, taking the plate Kurt offered him and rinsing it off. He placed it in the dish rack to dry.

"My stomach's just not as big as yours." Kurt tried a different angle, getting a little defensive in his nerves. "I'm sorry I don't eat twice my weight at every meal like you guys do."

Blaine knew he was lying – he'd seen Kurt eat four whole salads once – but yet again, he sighed and let it go for the time being. He could tell that he was upsetting his friend. But his suspicions were only strengthened now. _Is Kurt on some sort of diet?_ Blaine could not image why, though, considering how thin he already was. However, he could not see any other logical explanation, apart from the more extreme medical reasons that he did not even want to think about. If Kurt was feeling insecure, then he wanted to be there to help assure him that he was gorgeous just the way he was. But clearly Kurt was not going to let him in anytime soon. He felt sort of stung by that realization; he had thought that the two of them were best friends and told each other everything. The idea of Kurt keeping something from him was borderline painful.

When they had finished with the dishes, Blaine pulled Kurt into an unexpected – but much enjoyed – hug. "I'm sorry for pushing you," he murmured.

Kurt almost cracked then and there. Blaine sounded so remorseful. Kurt did not want him to feel bad. "No, no, don't worry about it," he quickly assured, smiling brightly. "I'm not mad."

Blaine nodded and saw him to the door. He would not push Kurt about this unless he had a real reason to worry. As long as Kurt ate _something_, he would allow it. If it appeared that Kurt was starving himself, however, he would have to intervene. There was no way he was going to let his best friend torture himself because of appearances. Especially considering the countertenor was probably the most attractive young man he'd ever met in his entire life.

_In an entirely platonic sense, of course, _he added.

…

**Again, SO sorry for the painful delay. I promise, next chapter will be better. This dinner felt a bit filler, but I needed it in order to make Blaine realize that the difference with Kurt was food-related. Sorry if it's not entirely up to par. This is just a little shlump in my writing :) I'll be back in top shape in no time! (Hopefully! Haha)**

**Also...Do any of you have friends like David that practically ****_inhale_**** their food? Because I certainly do ;D**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	5. Chapter 4: Stairs

**Another slow update is slow. Le sigh.**

**But at least I haven't forgotten about it? Lol I consider that a success even in itself, what with everything I'm trying to keep track of in my mind right now (read: college apps). Okay I shall do you all a favor and shut up now. Enjoy! Or, at least, enjoy it as well as anybody can enjoy Klaine angst...**

…

When Kurt arrived home that evening, the four or so bites he'd taken at dinner felt like a stone in his stomach, heavy and unwelcome. His body was rumbling its displeasure with him, begging for more, but his conscious was disappointed in him. He'd been doing so well..._If I'm not more dedicated, I'll never lose any weight_. He made his silent way to his room. Almost involuntarily, he felt himself cross to the bathroom and close the door behind him. The lock clicking into place sounded like gunfire.

He faced himself in the mirror. He could see the food he'd eaten already take up residence in his thighs, which suddenly looked strained against the fabric of his jeans.

And then he found himself on the floor in front of the toilet without quite remembering getting there. It felt like he was no longer in control of himself. Only when he was poised to put his hand into his mouth did he give pause. _This is wrong_, the more sensible part of his brain chided. _This is unhealthy. Only the Cheerios do this. You're above this._

_But what else can I do?_

Before he could wimp out, he quickly shoved his fingers as far down his throat as he could.

Automatically, he began to gag and splutter. Tears came to his eyes as his throat contracted against the intrusion. His stomach lurched. _This is it!_

But nothing came up.

Kurt began crying for an entirely different reason now. Never before had be felt like such an utter failure. He'd failed in keeping away from food and now he'd failed in ridding himself of it. Could he do nothing right? Would he never be able to lose the disgusting fat flabs, the horrid thunder thighs, the grotesque hips that should have their own 'wide load' sign?

He sat there for a while and just cried. And when the tears dried, he got up, washed his hands, and made his way back to his bedroom, avoiding his own shameful gaze in the mirror all the while. He made a resolution to himself that night as he got changed into his pajamas. If he could not get rid of his food after the fact, then he would make sure there was nothing to get rid of in the first place. As long as he stayed hydrated, he would be fine. He was sure of it.

He was _sure_ of it.

…

Only a week passed, during which Kurt was very proud of himself for keeping with his resolution, until Blaine approached the subject again. He had watched his friend carefully and, sure enough, he had not seem him eat a single thing the entire week, although he always seemed to have a water bottle with him. Finally, on Friday, he couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"Kurt, what's going on?"

The boy in question glanced up from his essay curiously. They were siting together in the library after school, working on homework before their regular coffee not-date later than evening. Except, of course, Kurt only drank water during those not-dates now. The first time Kurt ordered a cup of ice water instead of his usual coffee, the usual barista did a double-take and openly gaped at him. Blaine had admittedly done the same.

"I'm...working on my paper for Hughes?"

Blaine did not crack a smile, though. "No. I mean, ehy don't you eat lunch anymore?"

"Oh." Kurt shrugged and returned to his essay, clearly already over the conversation. "I already told you. I don't really get hungry around midday anymore. Big breakfasts, and all that. No point to eat if I'm not hungry."

But Blaine was not buying it anymore. "So if I were to call your dad right now and ask him if you ate breakfast this morning, would he say 'yes'?"

Kurt tensed, then quickly tried to hide it by closing a book he was using for reference and setting it aside. He was getting a little frustrated. _Why won't he just drop it?_ "Yeah, sure, of course! Jeez, it's like you don't trust me."

The older boy only frowned. He'd seen Kurt's reaction; he knew he was lying. _But why? Why would he lie to me?_ "Look, Kurt, I'm worried," he confessed. "You don't get your regular coffee anymore. All you drink is water."

"Blaine, you're not around me twenty-four-seven!" Kurt reminded curtly, immediately regretting his tone when he saw Blaine's shoulders sag, clearly upset. But he couldn't help it. His temper seemed to be getting shorter and shorter every day. Just yesterday he'd practically reduced Finn to tears for hogging the remote. Subconsciously, he knew it was due to hunger, but if it meant losing weight then he considered it a manageable side effect. "I _told_ you – I eat at home! God..."

"Kurt, you need to take care of yourself." Blaine kept pressing, leaning forwards. There were in the library, after all; they couldn't let their voices get too high. "Why don't we go to dinner tonight? There's a new salad at-"

"Jesus, Blaine! Just shut up!"

Blaine's jaw dropped. Kurt had never looked so furious. At least, not when the fury was directed at him. But Kurt had had enough. Not even Blaine's look of deep-seated hurt and surprise could derail his train of irritation as he stood and gathered his papers together.

"Stop treating me like a baby," he snapped. "I can take care of myself just fine. Just drop it!"

And with that, he was gone. A couple other students watched him storm off curiously, their glances then flicking towards Blaine as the only logical culprit. He didn't notice, though. He kept his gaze on the doorway Kurt had just disappeared through, too stunned to move, to chase after him. He didn't know what to do anymore. Kurt hardly _ever_ got angry with him. Now he was skipping meals, lying about it, and blocking Blaine's attempts to help.

After an immeasurable amount of time, Blaine snapped out of it and made his way upstairs to his room. He wanted to call or text Kurt immediately to apologize, but he knew that when Kurt was like this he just needed some time to cool off. So he resisted instant groveling and instead settled for opening up his laptop and going onto the internet. He needed a distraction. A productive distraction.

And so it was with quivering fingers that he typed "anorexia" into the search bar and hit Enter.

…

By Monday, Kurt had forgiven Blaine, but considering it had all been via text, Blaine was not all that sure of its authenticity. Nevertheless, he was relieved. He did not want Kurt to be upset with him. And besides, it would be easier to help Kurt help himself if they were not fighting.

Speaking of which, Blaine had done a lot of research during the couple of days they had been apart. He nearly cried multiple times as he read about the telltale signs, the common reasons, stories people posted about their own experiences, and the statistics on how many lost lives have been a result of it. More than once he wanted to drive over to Lima at once and force Kurt to eat something, even if it was against his will. He would much rather have a Kurt that hated him than a Kurt that wasn't living.

But he simply couldn't work out _why_ Kurt would start this in the first place. He couldn't fathom how Kurt could ever see himself as anything less than beautiful. If ever there was a flawless man on Earth, it was Kurt, hands down. He always used to be so cocky, too, so comfortable in his own skin.

_What changed?_

All he knew was that he needed to help. He would get Kurt to realize how gorgeous he was or die trying, because like _hell_ he was going to let that boy destroy himself like this. He'd been through enough. He didn't need to suffer from himself as well. Blaine would do everything in his power to get Kurt to start eating again, to regain that confidence that had first captured Blaine's attention all those months ago.

He did not see Kurt all morning, however.

Of course, he began to fret over possible reasons, his mind going off in all sorts of directions. Wes barely managed to keep him from leaping in his car and speeding over to Kurt's house. He got a text halfway through second period that only quadrupled his worry.

_From: Kurt Hummel_

_Hey, I'm not coming to school today. Dad's making me stay home._

Blaine texted back automatically, not caring how subtle he was being. This was his best class, after all; even if Mrs. Peters _did_ catch him, she'd probably just ignore it.

_From: Blaine Anderson_

_What? Why? Are you sick?_

_From: Kurt Hummel_

_No, no, I'm fine. Fell down the stairs this morning. Dad's being super paranoid about it._

Blaine nearly laughed out loud at the mental image of Kurt rolling his eyes at Burt's attempt to take care of him. The smile on his face quickly faded, though, when he remembered something he'd read online that weekend. 'People who don't eat often lose their energy and their reflexes weaken.'

Blaine felt ill. Had Kurt gotten hurt because he wasn't eating? He wanted to leave at once and go take care of him, but he knew better than to try and coddle him. Kurt would be frustrated at feeling weak, Burt would be suspicious as to why Blaine was there, and the Warblers would be upset with him for ditching practice at lunch. So instead he forced himself to stay at school, promising himself he'd go over the second classes ended.

…

He arrived a little after four-thirty with Kurt's homework in his arms. Burt looked a little frazzled when he answered the door, although it could well have been Blaine's overactive imagination.

"Hey, Mr. Hummel," he greeted at once. Then, noting the glare, quickly amended, "Sorry. Burt."

Burt nodded and allowed him in. "Glad you're here, to be honest."

"Is he doing alright?" Blaine pressed.

"Yeah, yeah, he's not actually physically injured too much," Burt assured tiredly, leading him down the hall. "Just a scraped elbow, bit of a bruise where he hit the banister, but nothing that won't heal. I mostly just wanted him to stay in bed because he's been really tired lately...I didn't want him driving for two hours in that state."

"That's probably wise," Blaine agreed, hiding his growing distress. Escaping up the stairs, he practically burst into Kurt's room. The boy looked up from where he laid in bed, flipping idly through the latest edition of _Vogue_. He instinctively smiled when he saw Blaine standing in the door, but it took a minute for Blaine to return it.

_He looks so...empty._

Only now did Blaine truly notice the hollowness of Kurt's cheeks, the dark shadows under his eyes (no doubt usually covered up with some sort of cream or powder), the way his clothes dangled off his frame. He saw the purple bump already forming on his left temple.

Blaine nearly broke down crying then and there. It killed him to see Kurt torturing himself like this. He'd give anything for the old Kurt back, the Kurt that strutted to the beat of his own drum and wore the most flamboyant of outfits without any inhibitions. That self-assurance was something Blaine missed about him.

"Hey," he breathed, cursing himself for sounding so choked up. He cleared his throat and quickly plastered on a cheerful grin. "I brought you your assignments!"

"Oh, joy," Kurt said sarcastically, smiling to show that he was only joking. Apparently he was no longer upset with Blaine about their mini-fight on Friday. Relief coursed through Blaine. "Did I miss anything important?"

"Oh, you know, the answers to life, the universe, and everything," Blaine shrugged.

"Ah, good. Nothing too crucial then."

They beamed at each other. It felt _so_ good, so natural. Moments like this reminded Blaine of how incredible Kurt was, and how incredible they were together.

_Wait. What?_

Blaine pushed that thought to the side for now. He had to focus on the task at hand. He could muse over his own feelings later when he was alone. For now, Kurt was his number one priority. He had to make sure he was alright.

They talked for a little bit more, and then Blaine departed to let him get some rest. Back downstairs, he peaked into the living room where Burt was reclining on the couch, watching a football game. He cleared this throat quietly to get his attention.

"Mr.- I mean, Burt," he quickly corrected himself. "I'd like to ask you something."

Burt straightened up expectantly. "Yes?"

"Have you noticed anything...um, _different_ about Kurt lately?" He treaded carefully around this topic, not wanting to put any unnecessary strain on the older man's heart. "You know, like...skipping out on meals?"

There was a pause. Burt looked a little confused at first, as if he had expected Blaine to ask something else, but then he sighed heavily and stood. "Yes," he confessed quietly. "I can't honestly remember the last time he's sat down and eaten with us. He says he's not hungry, or he'll grab something on his way out, but I'm starting to think he's not actually eating them."

Blaine's stomach dropped. His fears were being confirmed. But he fought the tears; he knew this was even harder on Kurt's father. They were on the same boat here, both men worried for Kurt's health.

"He's been really tired," Burt went on. "But he ate a bowl of soup for lunch – I sat there and _watched_ him eat it – so I can't exactly accuse him of- of..."

"Anorexia."

Blaine's voice was hollow, monotonous. The word sounded so _wrong_ on his tongue, like a bad taste. But he was relieved by the news, so much so that he had to suppress the urge to do a little happy dance there in the living room. He did not think Burt would particularly appreciate that. They were talking about his son's potential eating disorder, after all. Definitely not the time for dancing.

Burt showed Blaine to the door, much to his surprise. He suspected that there was something more he wanted to say. And, sure enough, just as Blaine stepped out onto the porch, Burt spoke again.

"Hey...Watch out for him, will you?"

Blaine turned back.

"He- He hasn't been eating lunch?"

Blaine shook his head regretfully. "I've tried to talk to him about it, but he pushes me away."

Burt nodded thoughtfully. "He's a stubborn boy alright..." Blaine actually let out a short laugh at the truth of that. "Still, you seem like a good guy, and I'd feel much better knowing that there's someone there to help him out. I doubt he'll come to me for help. So..."

Blaine understood. "I'll always be there for him," he promised, his voice quiet from the sincerity of it. "I'd hate for anything to happen to him. If he wants to talk, I'll be there."

Burt nodded again, staring at Blaine closely. "Are you two- I mean, you and Kurt...?"

For a second, Blaine's imagination conjured up an image of himself and Kurt, holding hands and snuggling close on a couch, exchanging soft, chaste kisses. And then he blinked, and the mental picture vanished like smoke. "No, sir," he answered. "We're not dating."

Another nod, this one almost a little sad.

Ten minutes later, as Blaine accelerated up the freeway ramp on his way back towards Dalton, he couldn't help but muse over what that could have meant. _Great, just another thing I'm going to lose sleep over_, he mourned. He would be distracted enough, trying to work out what exactly his feelings were for the brunette. Now Burt's question hovered over him as well. Or, more specifically, the mental image it had conjured. Surely people never thought of that kind of thing when they thought of their just-friends, right?

_Does that mean I want to be more than 'just friends' with Kurt?_

…

**NOTE: I'm writing Kurt's experience with food-deprivation based off my own experiences, but I'd just like to make it clear that it definitely does not represent all anorexia cases. For me, the hunger stopped after a couple days, and after the growling/pain stopped I no longer felt hungry. I thought at the time that it was very useful, because instead of constant daily struggles, I simply wasn't hungry anymore. Easy solution, right? But enough about me. All I'm saying is that loads of people have different experiences and probably struggle a lot more than I did, so I'm trying to find a balance between my own memories and the stories I've heard from others to create Kurt's mentality through this story.**

**Okay, serious AN was serious. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter anyway, and please don't forget to review with your thoughts!**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	6. Chapter 5: A New Technique

**Wow, I hadn't realized last chapter's AN would get such a reaction! Thank you guys ****_so_**** much for your words of support and encouragement. :) Particularly GleekFan1029 and | | – your reviews were so sweet! If I could I would stalk down every single one of you and give y'all a big ol' hug! (And now my creeper status has been revealed...Le fu)**

…

The week following Kurt's tumble down the stairs was a week of progress. Or at least, that was what Blaine had thought. It turned out, he was just falling for the act, believing what he wanted to believe, ignoring the signs. He saw Kurt eating lunch day after day and refused to suspect that anything else could be going on.

Kurt felt awful about deceiving him. But not awful enough to stop. After throwing up for the first time that Monday night following his stair stumble, he began to do it after every meal. His father was obviously ecstatic to see him joining them at dinnertime again. Nobody saw that anything was off. And he wanted to keep it that way. He could handle it. He was proud of it. He'd found a way around the system, a cheat sheet towards beauty.

He should have known he would never be able to hide it from his best friend forever.

Another week passed. He'd lost seven pounds, dropping him down to a wonderful 123 pounds. His throat had begun to burn, but he ignored it. It was easy to do; he'd been ignoring a lot of things lately. He ignored the constant guilt of lying to everybody, he ignored the soreness of his abs after each meal regurgitation, he ignored the voice in his head asking the all-important question, _When will you stop?_

But how would he be able to go back to eating? Even if he _had_ lost all those calories, he would just gain them all back if he started up again. He _had_ to keep going. He had to.

…

A Friday in mid-March found the Warblers in their rehearsal room, running through a possible number for Regionals. Blaine in lead, as always. However, he seemed distracted throughout practice, constantly glancing back at Kurt as if checking to make sure he was still there. And, in all honesty, the brunette was not feeling his best. His actions were slower than normal, his brain seemingly incapable of keeping a beat. The other Warblers had noticed, but for one reason or another they kept quiet.

But then Kurt felt it – the familiar contraction in his gut that indicated something was about to come back up. His eyes grew wide. _Here? Now?_ He had never thrown up involuntarily before, excluding severe sickness. _What's going on? Is it a virus? Food poisoning? _The room was spinning; he felt nauseous.

"Kurt?" he heard Blaine's voice, no longer singing.

No matter the cause, Kurt knew he had to get out of there. Fast.

He took a step towards the door. Before he could take another, however, he felt it. It was too late. His stomach lurched, so painfully it doubled him over. He coughed like a wolf, throat raspy and searing, and suddenly the stench of blood hit his nostrils, which just made him heave even more.

It did not last longer than a few seconds. But when he opened his eyes again and wiped his mouth, he saw his own bright red blood all over his hands. And the sight was almost enough to send him into another round of illness.

The Warblers stared in stunned silence. Blaine was the first to break from his paralysis.

"Kurt!" he repeated frantically. He hurried forward and wrapped a gentle but firm arm around the younger boy. "Come on," he urged soothingly. "Let's get you to the nurse." He did not listen to Kurt's weak protests as he led him out the door and down the hallway, breathing through his mouth in order to avoid the metallic odor of blood. The rest of the Warblers remained stock-still, having no clue what had just happened or how they could help.

Blaine checked an unwilling Kurt in with Nurse James and then stepped back into the hallway for the excruciating wait. His mind was in a panic. There was a short row of chairs he could have taken, but he was too anxious to stay still. Instead he paced. He didn't understand. Kurt had seemed _fine_ not two hours previous! Albeit a little tired, perhaps, but certainly not sick. And to cough up _blood_ like that...He shuddered at the memory. It was something that he would definitely never be able to scrub from his mind. To see Kurt so weak, so in pain, and all he did was stand their and watch...It made him want to punch something. Hard.

…

Inside, it did not take long for Nurse James to deduce Kurt's 'condition.' "Let me guess – bulimia?"

Kurt said nothing. He just stared down at his hands, which were now purged of blood. They still felt dirty, though.

The nurse sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face. "Look, I'm not going to scold you," he promised kindly. "All I ask is that you take care of yourself. You've only got one life to live. Don't ruin it by destroying your body."

"Destroying?" Kurt demanded, his voice much harsher than he ever would have usually used with a staff member. "What are you _talking_ about? I'm trying to make it _better!_ And I've been doing really well so far!"

Nurse James just shook his head sadly. "Starving yourself and making yourself throw up does _not_ make it better. Your body no longer has the nutrients it requires to function properly, and the bile from your stomach is burning away at your esophagus. That's why you coughed up blood today, Kurt! Just trust me on this one."

But Kurt did _not_ trust him. He didn't know anything. He didn't understand what Kurt was going through, or why he was doing this. He had no right to judge Kurt. Kurt wasn't going to stop until he was beautiful enough that Blaine would finally consider him as a potential boyfriend. Not before. Never before.

However, he knew how to pick his fights. "Alright," he sighed, putting on his best regretful face and standing. "You're probably right...Could you not call home and tell them about this? I feel fine now. I promise I'll stop."

He was insincere and the nurse could tell, but the older man just heaved another sigh and grudgingly agreed. Warbler practice was almost over anyway; there wasn't much point summoning his parents.

When Kurt emerged, Blaine practically leapt on him.

"Are you okay?" he demanded at once, breathless.

"Yes, I'm fine," Kurt assured with a smile, allowing himself a moment of bliss in Blaine's arms. They stood there for a while longer, arms wrapped around one another, until Blaine realized how close they were and pulled back sheepishly.

"You sure?" he pressed.

Kurt chuckled. "Absolutely! Must have just been something I ate."

Blaine positively beamed. "Let's go to the cafeteria, then! I think it'd probably be good to have a bit of soup before we head back to practice. You can have that cold chicken noodle kind you like..."

And then, to his horror, Kurt's eyes filled with tears that overflowed down his cheeks, staining that perfect skin and falling to the ground. Blaine watched, terrified and utterly lost as Kurt covered his face with his hands, bowed his head, and began to shake with suppressed sobs.

"I can't do it anymore," he muttered brokenly. He sniffed. Blaine's arms were around him again, and Kurt clutched desperately at the front of his blazer. Blaine did not care one bit that his uniform was getting soaked and wrinkled. This was _Kurt_, after all; he cared more about this boy than probably anybody else in the world right now. All he wanted was to make Kurt feel better. He wanted to _help_ him. He just had no clue how to.

"Can't do what?" he urged gently, bewildered. Kurt's head was buried into his shoulder, and he began to stroke the back of his hair. It was extraordinarily soft. He found himself wanting to kiss away his tears. He quickly suppressed the urge, though – Kurt had enough to deal with right now without Blaine's growing feelings for him interfering. He swore to himself, however, that as soon as all of this was over, he would tell Kurt exactly how much he cared for him.

"Don't make me do it again...Please," Kurt whispered in a voice that broke at every other word. He did not want to have to throw up again. It hurt too much. But if he kept eating, he would just gain all the weight he'd lost back again in no time at all. It was hopeless. _Why does it have to hurt so much?_ "No more. _Please_..."

"Okay," Blaine murmured into his hair, holding him still tighter. "Okay, Kurt. No more. You don't have to do anything anymore. It's going to be okay...Sssh, I'm here...I'm not going anywhere..."

And he wasn't. He would help Kurt through this. He may not have understood Kurt's motives, or his methods, or his justifications, but at the moment he could not bare to see him suffer any longer by himself. Blaine was going to be by Kurt's side through it all and show him that he wasn't alone. He was strong; he would make it through. Blaine couldn't bare to think of a life without Kurt in it.

…

Nobody questioned him when Blaine returned at the very end of Warbler rehearsal alone. And when he grabbed his and Kurt's bags and simply walked out again, there was not one single word of protest.

Blaine offered to drive Kurt home, but the younger boy assured him that he would be fine. So Blaine walked him to his car, offering another hug goodbye and a promise to call him later that night. He watched Kurt pull out of his spot and exit the parking lot, standing there long after he'd turned onto the main road and disappeared.

After a few more seconds passed, he made his way up to his room. The door closed behind him with a tauntingly innocent click.

He snapped.

His fists slammed into the wall, his forehead following soon after. Hot tears spilled from underneath tightly squeezed eyelids and splattered like raindrops on the floor below. He turned and, back pressed against the wall, collapsed into the fetal position. His hands ran through his hair, breaking up the gel, tugging at the curls as if hoping it would ease the pain he felt even slightly. He buried his face in his knees and did his best to hold himself together, because honestly he felt like if he moved too much he would completely fall to pieces.

_What's going on with Kurt? Why can't I seem to fix him?_

…

**I think I just broke Blaine.**

***ugly crying***

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	7. Chapter 6: Reason to Worry

**I'm sorry I made you cry! Heheheh but at the same time, I'm glad that I was able to touch people in that way. :) I guess I'll get on with the story, though. Hayley Williams threw large chairs, fridges, and cyber-ducks at me for breaking Blaine XP Looks like I'm going to have to fix these two boys up now...Before I'm killed by flying furniture and animals.**

**NOTE: In case you haven't already heard, I got a Tumblr! :D Took me long enough, too...I'm **rippleklainebagels**, and there's a link on my profile. Hope to see you over there! I'll probably be posting little teasers/spoilers to my fanfics on there.**

…

Kurt was immediately suspicious when Wes and David joined him and Blaine for their regular coffee not-date at Lima Bean. They all got their own drinks – earning a couple snickers from the invading two when Blaine ordered Kurt's, despite his protest – and settled themselves into a booth near the back corner.

"Alright, spill." Kurt pinned David and Wes with his best no-funny-business glare, his finger trailing absentmindedly around the edge of his cup. He did not drink any. Blaine, who sat beside him, took a sip of his own drip and fought back the sense of hopelessness. He'd told his two best friends his suspicions with the hope that they could help Kurt, not upset him. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all..._

"What do you mean?" Wes asked innocently.

"Can't we just grab some coffee with you without an ulterior motive?" David agreed with mock offense. "Blaine gets you all the time – he has to learn how to share!" He jumped and grunted as Blaine kicked him under the table. "Ooh, _someone's_ possessive..."

This had the desired effect, as Kurt burst into snickers. Blaine grinned; he loved it when Kurt laughed. He wished he did it more often.

"Is your coffee too hot?" Wes inquired, his voice just slightly too offhanded to be real.

Kurt frowned down at his mocha for a moment, seeming to debate. Blaine waited with bated breath. Then the brunette brought the cup to his lips and took a long drink. "No, it's lovely," Kurt said pointedly, setting it down again, perhaps a little more forcefully than was necessary.

Wes and David shifted a bit in their seats. _Here it comes, _Blaine noticed. Sure enough, the two exchanged a glance, a nod, and then Wes spoke again delicately. "So, Kurt. Yesterday during rehearsal...What happened?"

Kurt's entire body tensed up. Blaine felt it. "You were there," he answered emotionlessly. "You saw. I was sick. But, as you can see, I'm fine now. Must have just been a passing flu or something." He shrugged and forced himself to take another sip.

The two across the table looked towards Blaine worriedly. He gave the smallest shake of his head to show that Kurt was lying. They understood. When nobody spoke for a while, Kurt glanced over at Blaine curiously, and he grimaced guiltily. _I'm sorry to have to do this._

Kurt gaped at him, realizing too late what the lead soloist must have done. "How _could_ you?" he breathed. "You...You _told_ them?" The hurt in his eyes was almost too much for Blaine to bare. He nearly broke down right there apologizing, but Wes stepped in again.

"Kurt, we're worried about you."

"Don't!" Kurt snapped, redirecting his rage at the Asian. "Don't, Wes. I can't believe this. This is entirely _my_ business, and it was _wrong_ of Blaine to tell you anything. I'm not sitting through an intervention about my- about _me!_ You guys have _no_ idea why I do what I do-"

"Then _tell_ us!" David countered evenly. "We're your friends, Kurt. Maybe not as close as Blaine is, sure, but we still care about you. No, we don't know what's going on with you, but we want to. We want to help!"

"I never asked for anybody's help!" he hissed, finding it increasingly difficult to keep his voice low so as to not attract any attention from the local customers.

"But you need it." Wes spoke firmly. "Now, I have no power over what you do at home or in your personal life. But if your eating habits – or lack thereof – affects your Warbler performances like yesterday, I'm afraid I won't be able to let it slide again."

The rest of the table stared at him in surprise. David and Blaine hadn't expected him to go that far. Kurt seemed to contemplate something for a moment, eyes never leaving his face. Wes returned the gaze unwaveringly. Finally, Kurt responded with a dangerous question. "So you're saying if I get sick again during practice, I'm out?"

Wes swallowed subtly. "No. If you get sick again...I'm going to _personally_ take you to the hospital and call your father."

And to Blaine's surprise, Kurt's eyes suddenly went wide and he nearly upset his coffee cup. "No!" he gasped, panic replacing his murderous expression in a heartbeat. "No, Wes, he can't know! He'd flip! He'd have another heart attack! He can't-"

"It's looking like our last resort," Wes spoke over him. "If you won't listen to reason, maybe you'll listen to your father."

"No, you don't understand!" Kurt insisted, voice borderline hysteric. Blaine was startled to see this change in him. "He finally stopped worrying about me! If he found out he would feel so awful-!"

"Wes," Blaine murmured softly. "Stop. You're scaring him."

But then the anger returned. "I'm not a _lemur_, Blaine."

And then, for the first time since they'd met all those months ago on the stairwell, Kurt finally saw Blaine loose his temper. "Well, clearly you have the mental capacity of one, if you think that starving yourself will solve anything!"

He snatched up his medium drip and stormed off, chucking his nearly-full cup in the trash as he went and wrenching open the door as if hoping to break it off its hinges. Kurt watched him go, immobile, speechless. He had never seen Blaine look so frustrated, and most definitely not because of him. To see him fly off the handle like that, and know that it was his fault...He hated that more than anything. Regret swelled within him. He'd never meant to hurt him with all of this.

David and Wes stood simultaneously. "Look," David sighed. "Blaine just really cares about you. He's worried. We all are. Don't be mad at him. Or, better yet, don't give him a _reason_ to be worried, alright?"

Kurt said nothing.

But before he left the coffee shop, fifteen minutes later, his coffee cup was empty.

…

**This chapter was short, because for once I wanted an ending that didn't make me want to curl up in bed and cry. I'm telling you right now, Kurt isn't just going to pop back and return to his old self. It takes more than that. But stick around, there's more to come!**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	8. Chapter 7: Betrayal

**Wrote this instead of studying for my AP Environmental Science test I'm going to take tomorrow (later today). Oop.**

…

Kurt grew still thinner, still paler, still sicklier. His voice was notably weaker, too, almost rougher. He'd had to go to the main office and get new sets of the uniform in a smaller size. After the fiasco at the coffee shop, he no longer seemed to trust anybody else, acting almost hostile at times and hardly talking to anyone. Except Blaine, of course. He continued to respond to Blaine's texts and returned his smile in the hallway. But apart from that, he'd cut himself off. Although the subject was never brought up again, they – meaning Blaine, Wes, and David – knew that Kurt was continuing to starve himself and throw up whatever he was forced to eat.

When he fainted the second time – luckily, he'd been sitting at his second period desk and thus hadn't had far to fall – it was the last straw.

"Blaine, something's got to be done," Wes bemoaned.

"Seconded," David agreed solemnly. The three of them were waiting outside the nurse's office for Kurt to reemerge. "I don't know what else we can do, apart from physically hauling him down to the hospital."

Nurse James then stepped out. "Oh, Mr. Anderson? Good, I was just coming to find you."

"Me?" Blaine asked, confused. "Why? Is Kurt alright?"

The look Nurse James gave him was very loaded. "I think you know the answer to that, Mr. Anderson." Blaine swallowed and nodded once; he did indeed. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you might know Kurt's father's number? The only phone number we have on record is their home phone, but nobody picked up, and Kurt refuses to give me anybody's cell numbers."

Blaine's eyes suddenly shone with an idea. "Oh! I- Yes, I do, but- Wow, I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier." He ran a hand absently through his curls. "Look, Nurse James, leave it to me. Trust me, I'll talk to his father. I've got this."

And before any of them could respond, he was off, sprinting towards his room, leaving behind two thoroughly bemused Warblers and an equally befuddled school nurse. One long, semi-uncomfortable phone conversation to Burt later, a plan had been made for that weekend.

It was smoothly executed – Blaine came over to 'hang out' for a bit, and Burt queued in at the opportune moment to offer them a ride to the mall on his way to the garage. Blaine distracted Kurt during the drive so that he did not notice they were headed in the opposite direction.

But he _definitely_ noticed when they pulled into Lima Hospital's parking lot...

…

To put it simply, Kurt was pissed.

Not just frustrated. Not just upset. Not just angry. _Pissed_. If he had the strength, he would have thrown his hospital bed at both Blaine and Burt for putting him in there. He'd practically clawed down the nurses who'd tried to help him into it. It truly was evidence of how weak he'd become that they managed to get him to stay there. If he was his normal self, he would have stormed out of there without a second thought.

It wasn't so much that he was angry at being checked into the hospital against his will. It wasn't even that his father had figured it out despite his best efforts to keep it from him. It was that he felt betrayed. Betrayed by Blaine. And it hurt more than he was willing to say.

The doctor took some tests that only seemed to confirm what they already knew – he was suffering from malnutrition and a raw throat from repetitive regurgitation. Nothing too serious, thankfully, but they wanted to keep him for a day or so to make sure there was some improvement. He said nothing. He knew what that meant. They were going to watch him and make sure that whatever they forced him to eat would stay down.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

Burt and Blaine came in to check on him.

"We did this for your own good," Burt tried to explain, a hint of desperation in his voice. "You're my son – I don't like seeing you like this."

Kurt said nothing. He knew if he opened his mouth, he'd snap at him. And he did not want to snap at his father. Because deep down, he knew that Burt was doing the right thing. But the more dominant part of his brain was simply annoyed with everybody and everything. So he held back the retorts on his tongue.

Burt sighed. "I guess I'll go to the garage, then...I'll come back tonight to visit, okay? I'm assuming you don't want me to tell Carol or Finn?" Kurt shook his head. The way he was laying, though, it seemed more like forcing his head to flop from side to side. It was heartbreaking. "Alright. I'll see you later, then. I love you, son...Just remember that."

He turned to leave. He caught Blaine's eye, saw the plea in them, and clapped the boy on the shoulder in silent consent. "I'll wait in the car." Blaine nodded and Burt left. Kurt knew that Blaine was still there, watching him, but he did not look over.

"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered, hesitating in the doorway, unsure of whether he would be allowed to come any further into the room.

"Get out."

_Well, there's my answer._

"Just stop butting in," Kurt added. He turned away from the boy and glowered at the tauntingly white wall. It was mocking him, reminding him how clean and pure and _good_ he used to be before all this. Now he was dirty, sick, a walking mistake. Everything he'd done was in vain. He'd tried and he tried, but it had all been for naught. He should have known Blaine wouldn't find skinner-Kurt any more attractive than fat-Kurt. He'd been stupid and deluded and _hopeful_. And as usual, he screwed everything up royally. Now he was lying in a hospital bed like a pathetic health case.

Blaine did not leave. Kurt looked far too white, far too hollow, far too small. His arms were twigs, his legs – the outlines of which he could make out from under the thin sheets – no better. He looked so sad, so lost...More than anything, Blaine just wanted to take this boy in his arms and tell him how gorgeous he was already, how he never had to change for anybody, what a treasure he was. But it looked like comfort from Blaine was the last thing Kurt wanted at the moment.

"I just want to _help_, Kurt..." The sincerity of his wavering voice was undeniable. Kurt allowed himself a glance back towards the older boy, the object of his affections and unknowingly part of the reason he had begun this pointless struggle in the first place. _How could I have been so stupid to think I'd ever have a chance with him? Now he just thinks _less_ of me_. Those hazel eyes locked onto his glasz ones. "Because- Because I _really_ care about you."

Kurt sighed. His voice was quiet, forlorn. "I know, I know. You're my 'friend' and you want to look out for me. I get it."

"It's not just that!" Blaine insisted. He paused, wondering whether it was wise to go on. But he knew he had to say it. He had to make Kurt understand. He had to tell him how he felt. "It's- It's so much _more_ than that, Kurt. _Please_, if you would just _listen_ to me..." He drew closer to Kurt's bedside. His voice was rising in passion, in emotion. It was empowering to finally put words to his feelings. At this point, it didn't even matter if Kurt returned them; Blaine just needed him to know how loved he was. "I think you're beautiful in every way, inside _and_ out! Really. Whether you think so or not, the truth is you're the sweetest, most handsome, talented, attractive, extraordinary man I've ever met. I honestly don't understand where you got the idea that you're anything short of fucking _perfect_."

Tears formed in Kurt's eyes. "Just like the song?" he whispered, attempting to smile up at him.

Blaine's laugh was broken by a sob. "Like the song," he agreed.

"Thank you..." Kurt breathed. "Please...C-Can you leave now?"

Blaine nodded sadly. "Okay. I'll go. But I'm coming back. I'm always going to be here for you, whether you like it or not. You're stuck with me." With a parting smile, he disappeared. Kurt felt like he was walked away with his own heart, and his chest ached with longing. He knew he had a lot to think about and work through. And he knew he'd have to do it alone.

Back at the car, Blaine slipped into the passenger seat and Burt started the engine. The older man was tactful enough to pretend not to notice Blaine's tears. Only when the sobs began to fill the car did Burt speak up.

"You love my son."

It was not a question. Just an observation.

Blaine nodded repeatedly, temporarily unable to form words. He drew his knees up to his chest and curled up into a ball on his seat. Burt shifted a little, not sure how to comfort the boy crying his eyes out beside him.

"He loves you too, you know," he settled for.

Blaine sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Wh-What?"

"Well, I don't know _exactly_ how he feels," Burt mused gruffly. "But he's definitely crazy about you. I think he's just confused. He's...blind to how most people see him. He's endured so much hate in his life that I think he's forgotten what it's like to be loved and admired." He glanced over at Blaine. "I'm going to trust you to show him that. Can you do that?"

Blaine hiccuped and brushed away the remaining tears from his face. "I will, sir. I'll do everything I can to show him how much I care for him. I can be pretty stubborn too...I'm not giving up on him."

A grunt of approval ended the conversation for the rest of the car ride.

…

**Is it pathetic to cry at your own fanfic?**

**Hmm. Burt just sort of snuck in there. Never originally planned on having him in here. Ah well, I love the guy! :D He may be socially awkward, but he's so wise...I wish he could be my uncle. I'd replace him with my homophobic uncle. Yeah, that'd be nice...**

**By the by, I have no clue how hospitals work. (I have an ****_epic_**** immune system so the only time I've ever been near one since birth was when I got stung by a sting ray and had to go to the ER. Fun times.) So excuse me if something seems a little off; I'm going to be focusing on Kurt more than his actual experience in there.**

**Wow. Just realized there's only one or two more chapters...**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	9. Chapter 8: Confessions

**My college counselor just emailed me to tell me that she's having trouble submitting my information to the common app website. And seeing as how I've applied Early Decision, my due date is TODAY. So as you can imagine, I'm panicking. Like, really hard.**

**So I started to write to distract myself and keep me from puking up the butterflies in my stomach. OH LORD THE NERVES I CAN'T EVEN.**

…

To say that Kurt Hummel was conflicted would be the understatement of the century. Questions raced through his mind without answer, slowly edging him closer to an all-out break down. He would surely go mad from not knowing.

_What did Blaine mean by that? Was he serious? Did he just say that to make me eat normally again? He just said it as a friend, right? There's no way he likes me. Not a chance. I'd just be deluding myself again. Stop right now._

He wiggled deeper between his sheets, drawing them up to his chin. _But if I never have a chance...then what's the point of continuing this? It would definitely put dad at ease. And Blaine would probably be glad he didn't have to look out for me anymore. This has gone on long enough. I just need to accept that Blaine will never want me the way I want him. What he said earlier...That must have just been as a friend. A very close friend. Nothing more. That has to be it. Right? When he said he thought I was beautiful...No. There's no way. We're just best friends. That's all we'll ever be. I'll have to accept that sooner or later. And in the meantime, I guess...I guess I'll just let myself get fat again, since it seems to make everyone happier. Even if I can't be happy, I might as well make other people..._

…

The minute Burt dropped Blaine off at his house, he got into his own car and headed straight back towards the hospital. On the way, he stopped by a flower shop and bought a single red rose. Cliché, yes, but he couldn't resist. He then sent a quick text to Wes, apologizing for skipping out on rehearsal but assuring him that he and Kurt both had legitimate excuses. Well, Kurt did. Blaine's excuse _was_ Kurt. Which he considered the most legitimate excuse in the world. Luckily, Wes seemed to suspect the reason behind their absence and had the tact not to press any further.

Blaine made his way back to Kurt's room. It was fading from afternoon to evening by now, and he idly wondered how long he would be able to stay. He wasn't family, after all.

And then he was hit – walloped, more like – by the sudden image of _becoming_ family to Kurt. Of marrying, of living together, maybe adopting a child. And he wanted that so badly it _hurt_. He had to pause outside of Kurt's room for a moment and lean against the wall, trying to get his breath back. If any of the nurses noticed him, they would think he was a patient.

_I need to ask him. Tonight._

And before he could double-think himself, he knocked on the door and pushed it open.

Kurt's head snapped around to him at the sound of somebody entering. His eyes were wide; he clearly had been expecting a doctor, or possibly his father. Faint tracks on his cheeks indicated that he'd been crying, sometime not too long ago.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hi," was the equally simple response.

When it became clear that he was not going to be thrown out, Blaine stepped forward. "I- I brought this for you." He held out the single rose. "I know it's not much, but..."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but his smile said it all – he was happy. "I'm not on my _deathbed_, Blaine." Nevertheless, he reached out and accepted the flower, bringing it to his nose and inhaling its faint aroma.

"I- No, I didn't mean you are!" Blaine tried to correct. Kurt was a little surprised to see him this flustered. _What's gotten into him?_ "I just thought it was...nice?" He laughed a bit at his own awkwardness. "I'm sorry. I'm honestly not entirely sure _what_ I was thinking. I just wanted to bring you something pretty to spice up your room. I know the blandness must be _killing_ you."

"You have _no_ idea," Kurt whined. He gestured with a flick of a hand towards one of the chairs, his other hand still holding his rose close to his face. Blaine immediately took the seat offered. "It's like the living dead here! I swear, I'm getting paler every second I spend in this god-awful white room..."

Blaine burst into laughter. Kurt joined in. And just like that, the tension in the atmosphere dissipated. _This is so natural_, Blaine smiled to himself. _This. Right here. What we have. We've always been so comfortable with one another...Why didn't I see it sooner? Why did I ignore all the signs? Ever since he walked into my life, he's been the first person I think to call when I've had a bad day, or a really good day, or I just want to talk. And he's the first person I go to see in the mornings – my feet just take me to him without even having to think about it anymore. How could I have ever thought that didn't _signify_ something?_

"Blaine..."

"Yes?" He drew his chair right up next to Kurt's bed. The rose caressed Kurt's cheek absently as the younger boy tried to think of what he wanted to say. Blaine secretly wished he was those petals, drifting over that smooth skin. _Snap out of it, Blaine! Focus._

"I-...I guess I just want to say I'm sorry."

Blaine frowned in confusion. Kurt glanced over at him and found that he couldn't look away again. "I'm _so_ sorry," he repeated. "For everything I put you through. You shouldn't of had to worry about me so much. I created a lot of needless stress, I think, so I hope you can forgive me. You didn't need that. And neither did my dad. It was entirely my doing and my fault and now it's my consequences."

"Consequences?" Blaine echoed, still bemused.

Kurt nodded. "Now everybody's going to watch me. Judge me. I'll never be able to eat another meal without feeling eyes on me, Blaine. And that's...just something I brought upon myself, I guess." He sighed heavily, a sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body. "I'm sorry. I really am, Blaine. You don't have to worry about me anymore."

Blaine took Kurt's free hand between his own, holding it tightly and struggling not to cry. It was hard, though. "Kurt...Kurt, look at me."

The brunette forced himself to meet Blaine's gaze. He was surprised by the intensity of those hazel orbs.

"What I said earlier...I meant every word. You _are_ beautiful. In every way. If anybody ever tells you different, then they're _blind_, Kurt. Blind! Any man should be _honored_ to call himself yours." He took a deep breath. _Now or never, Anderson._ "Kurt..._I_ would be honored to call myself yours."

Kurt inhaled sharply, eyes widening, shining with something akin to hope.

Blaine took this as encouragement and continued. "I've...come to realize just how much you mean to me, Kurt. And- And I know I may never be able to fully understand what made you do all this, but I do know that I can't ignore my feelings anymore, and I need you to know that I would do _anything_ for you-"

"Stop."

He obeyed. His anxiety grew tenfold when he saw how crushed Kurt looked. It didn't make any sense. Even if he didn't return Blaine's feelings, he shouldn't have looked this hurt. _What did I do wrong?_

"Why are you saying these things?" Kurt demanded in a broken whisper. Tears began to stream down his face. One of them landed on his rose. Blaine's heart positively shattered at the sight. "Is this some sick joke? A prank on the gay fat boy? Why won't you stop playing with my emotions so much?"

"Kurt, _no!_" Blaine's voice seemed very loud compared to Kurt's. He leaned forward, gripping Kurt's hand like a lifeline. Desperation leaked into his tone. "No, Kurt, that's not it at _all._ Dammit, why won't you believe how _gorgeous_ you are? You're the farthest thing from 'fat!'" He said that word with incredulity. "And even if you _were_, it wouldn't matter! You're loved for _who_ you are, not how you _look_. And yes, you look incredible, but more importantly, you _are_ incredible. I don't know what else I can do to show you how amazing you are, Kurt. This isn't a joke. I'm being completely serious here. I'm laying everything on the line here to tell you that- that I _love_ you!"

Kurt stared at him, and something seemed to dawn in his eyes. His gaze flickered down to Blaine's lips, then back up, questioning. Without hesitation, Blaine leaned forward and captured Kurt's lips with his own in their very first kiss.

_Oh. So _this_ is what it's like to be madly in love._

Blaine's hands moved to cup Kurt's face, holding him there, kissing him deeper. He smiled when he felt Kurt's lean fingers sneak into his hair, drawing him still closer. He forgot how to breath, how to think. Everything was Kurt and the sensation of his lips on Blaine's, and for the first time in his life he finally felt complete.

When the broke apart – how much time had passed, neither of them could say – Kurt was grinning from ear to ear, his tears shining but no longer falling. Blaine brushed them away with his thumbs, smiling equally widely.

"You love me?" Kurt murmured.

Blaine kissed him again. Brief, purposeful. "With all my heart," he promised.

And then those magical words he never thought he'd hear Kurt return: "I love you too, Blaine. I always have, always will."

But even more magical words were uttered moments later, after another passionate kiss. "So, since I'm apparently not allowed to get out of bed...Can you go get me a sandwich from the cafeteria?"

Blaine threw his head back and laughed. "There is _nothing_ I'd like to do more."

…

When Burt returned that evening, as promised, he was taken aback to find Blaine already there. Then, when he noticed their close proximity – Blaine was reclined in the bed next to Kurt, cradling the thin stick of a boy in his arms delicately – it suddenly didn't seem all that surprising. Blaine was tracing incoherent patterns up Kurt's arm, which looked even smaller when compared to Blaine's slightly muscular one. There was a food tray on the side table ladened with wrappers and empty containers, a sight that in itself made Burt smile hopefully. He did not immediately announce his presence, however.

Blaine was in the middle of telling Kurt a story of his first week at Dalton, when he'd walked into David's room to find the boy fast asleep at his desk, spreading peanut butter on a coaster with his letter opener. Kurt was laughing. It sounded wonderful. Burt nearly started crying in relief.

He cleared his throat. Blaine immediately stopped talking, visibly tensing. No doubt he was terrified Burt would throw him out head-first for daring to lay in Kurt's bed with him, their complete states of dress irrelevant.

"Mr. Hummel!" he greeted politely, his voice tinted with a bit of fear.

"Dad!" Kurt said at the same time. He sounded more nervous than scared.

"Please, Blaine, call me Burt," Burt reminded. "Did I miss something?"

The two younger men exchanged a knowing smile. "Can you wait outside?" Kurt whispered, kissing him on the nose. Blaine nodded and stood up, awkwardly slipping around Burt and moving out to the hallway. Burt took a seat in the chair pulled up by the bedside and indicated the tray.

"You ate?" he asked.

Kurt nodded proudly. "I did. Not a lot, granted, but...I did eat. And I kept it down. Blaine made sure of it. I think it'll take some time, but...I think the worst is over, Dad. Promise."

Burt gave a hum of approval. "Good. That's great to hear, son. I'm proud of you. I know this isn't easy for you." He jerked a thumb towards the doorway and added with a smile, "And...you and Blaine...?"

Kurt blushed a little, but his smile was dazzling. "Boyfriends."

Burt nodded. "I'm glad." Kurt raised an eyebrow. He chuckled and insisted, "No, really! I am! He's a good kid. And he's clearly gonna treat you right. That boy's got a good head on his shoulders, and a good heart in his chest."

Kurt felt himself tear up for what must have been the dozenth time that day. Burt pulled his son in for a gruff hug, careful not to hold too tightly for fear of snapping him in half. They both knew that it would take time and patience before Kurt was back to normal. But they both knew he'd get there with the help of his father and his boyfriend.

_It's going to be okay._

…

**Final chapter coming really soon!**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	10. Chapter 9: Strawberries END

***sniff* Final chapter, guys! D: Oh lord my emotions I can't. I can't even. More comprehensible AN will be added to the bottom. Lemme just...I need a tissue...*ugly sobbing***

**This final chapter is dedicated to Mollyone. I'm sorry. Really, ****_really_**** sorry. This happy ending is for you...Please know that you are beautiful and wonderful and ****_loved._**

…

Kurt returned home the next day (as far as Carol and Finn knew, he'd been at a sleepover with the girls), which meant he could return to school on Monday. Burt was against it, but Kurt was adamant. In the end, his father caved, as he knew he would.

When he arrived in the morning, he instantly found Blaine, and the smile they shared said so much without saying anything at all. Blaine approached him – completely tuning out David and Wes, with whom he'd been talking – and took his hand. It was still thin and pale and weak, but it felt so right in Blaine's. It was a simple gesture, and yet entirely reassuring to both of them. To Blaine, that Kurt was there, alive and on the road to recovery. To Kurt, that Blaine still wanted to be with him.

The morning classes seemed to pass in a strange switch-off between blink-of-an-eye fast and sluggishly slow. Kurt's nerves built up within him the closer it came to lunchtime. He wasn't sure he was ready to face the silent judgement, the pointed stares.

_I brought this on myself_, he reminded morosely. But then a very cheering thought struck him. He wouldn't be alone. Blaine would be right there beside him, every step of the way.

Suddenly, lunch didn't seem all that intimidating.

The bell rang. He made his way slowly towards the cafeteria, his footsteps heavy, his palms sweaty, delaying for as long as possible at his locker. Too soon, though, he came upon the dreaded chamber of students and hovered for a moment in the doorway. The smell of different foods – soups, salads, sandwiches, casseroles, desserts – made Kurt feel slightly ill.

However, then he spotted Blaine. The older boy was sitting with the rest of the Warblers, chatting animatedly with Trent. Kurt couldn't believe that this beautiful man sitting before him actually wanted to be with him. He could have gotten any gay guy – or straight, probably, for that matter – he wanted, and yet for some unexplainable reason, he'd chosen _Kurt_. It was mind-blowing in the best possible way.

Wes noticed Kurt first and a knowing smirk spread across his face. He leaned forward and murmured something to Blaine. He immediately looked around, breaking into a grin when he saw Kurt hesitating by the door. _Come on_, he seemed to silently invite. _Come sit with me._

Kurt couldn't say no to him. So he forced his feet to move towards the Warbler table, slipping into the empty seat beside Blaine. The lead soloist's arm snaked around Kurt's waist without a second thought. Kurt smiled to himself. This was his _boyfriend._ Blaine was his, and he was Blaine's. Wes and David watched them subtly before respectfully turning away and striking up conversations with Thad and Cameron. The rest of the table continued on with their chatter, only pausing to throw Kurt a greeting wave or smile. No stares. No whispering.

Kurt leaned over and plucked a strawberry off Blaine's plate. With a wink, he purposefully popped it into his mouth and chewed. He automatically felt the urge to run to the nearest bathroom and get it back out, but Blaine's arm, although gentle and loose, was enough to keep him anchored. He swallowed.

Blaine then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Kurt's, reveling in the sweet, sugary flavor. The strawberry juice blending with Kurt's natural taste was positively intoxicating. He had no idea where they where, who they were with, what his own name was. All he knew was that he would happily continue doing this for the rest of eternity.

"Okay," Kurt breathed when, at least, they broke apart, both of them completely missing the wide eyes and dropped jaws from the rest of the table. "If you do _that_ everytime I eat, I'll _definitely_ do this more often."

Blaine chuckled and slid the rest of his strawberries in front of Kurt. "Sounds like a deal."

And what a _delicious_ deal it was.

…

**Why must I always end my fics with some ultra-corny line? lol Hope you enjoyed, anyway! It was great having you along for the ride. You guys are incredible. I'm not going to write a sequel to this, but if you have anything you'd like to see me write, feel free to tell me so in a review! :D Or in my ask box on Tumblr (rippleklainebagels). I love hearing from you. Seriously.**

**Thanks to Valashu for giving me the original request! You're amazing, hon! Hope you approve :)**

**Happy readings!**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	11. Epilogue

**So I was going back and editing my older fics (which included this one) when suddenly an idea struck me, and I couldn't shake it. So here you go! :) This is set sometime during college when they share an apartment.**

…

"Hey, sweetie, I'm home!"

Blaine's call went unanswered as he shut the door behind him and toed off his shoes.

"Kurt?" he tried again, frowning when his boyfriend didn't reply. _Has he gone out?_ It was late in the evening; Blaine was just now getting home from his shift at the coffeehouse on campus. Usually Kurt was still awake, reading in bed or sometimes bent over his desk, scribbling out designs. Perhaps he was tired and went to sleep early.

Blaine shrugged off his jacket, draped it over the back of one of the mismatched chairs in the kitchenette – Kurt always said once they had the money they'd get a proper set – and padded down the hall towards the bedroom. Before he could reach it, though, a noise from the bathroom caught his attention. A whimper.

"Kurt?"

"Don't come in," Kurt choked out, and panic immediately flooded Blaine's body. He sounded awful.

"Are you alright? Are you sick?" Blaine demanded, ignoring Kurt's request and pushing the door open. "Do you need-?"

Kurt glanced up at him, eyes wide with shame and apology. "I'm sorry, Blaine," he breathed brokenly. He was curled up by the toilet, the smell of vomit still lingering in the air. Blaine knew immediately what had happened. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's alright," he said at once, lowering himself down in front of Kurt and pulling his boyfriend into his lap, stroking his back, running a hand through his tousled hair. He could feel the sobs coming on before he heard them. "Ssh, it's okay. You're okay."

"I d-didn't mean to," Kurt promised, burying his face into Blaine's shoulder, fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of his sweater. "I swear, I didn't- I was just- Everything looked so bad and I c-couldn't stop-"

Blaine shushed him again gently, kissing the crown of his head. He rocked them a little back and forth. Kurt continued to weep into his chest. "I'm not mad, sweetie. I'm not mad at you. Please don't cry. Just talk to me..."

Kurt took a shuddering breath. "I w-went shopping with Devon and he looked good in absolutely everything and I couldn't f-find anything, and we ate a h-huge dinner and I j-just felt so bad, and I- I'm _sorry_." He hiccuped.

"Don't apologize," Blaine murmured. "This is the first time you've relapsed in two years, baby. That's something to be _really_ proud of. I'm proud of you." He spoke each word with a sense of finality.

"B-But I'm broken," Kurt cried. "I'm not strong enough. I keep fucking up. I can't-"

"Kurt Hummel," Blaine broke in, pulling back to cup Kurt's cheek, forcing him to meet his gaze so he could see the sincerity in Blaine's eyes. "What have I told you a thousand times? You are the strongest, bravest, sexiest man I know."

Kurt gave a tiny, watery smile. "Y-You're not mad at me?"

Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt's forehead, his cheeks, his nose. "Of course not. I'm sad that you felt the urge again, but I'm not upset with you. Everyone has their bad days. Remember that time Rachel made that comment on my hair and I ended up emptying an entire bottle of gel into it?"

That got a laugh out of him. "You looked like you'd just taken a shower in cooking oil," he recalled.

Blaine grinned, glad to see his boyfriend had stopped crying. He brushed away a few remaining tears with his thumb. "Come on. Let's get you to bed, okay?"

Kurt nodded, and allowed Blaine to help him to his feet.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he whispered.

The shorter man beamed just as brightly as the first time Kurt had told him that. "Brush your teeth so I can show you just how amazing _you_ are..."

Kurt giggled and hurried to comply.

…

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


End file.
